to come home
by faithsette
Summary: 'He expects the smile, is overjoyed to see it, but what he doesn't expect is for her to close the gap between them, to practically throw her arms around him and hold on.' Military Castle prompt fill.


**A/N:** Inspired by a prompt, to be posted at the end.

* * *

On September 2nd, he gets her most recent letter.

She tells him about the latest case, the hi-jinks Ryan and Espo are getting into without him, and jokes about the former getting ganged up on. "'Castle would side with me' is what he says," she writes.

He knows Espo's called Ryan a "Castle Junior" before. It makes him laugh.

They've been writing back and forth for about eight months now, started a while after he was called away. It wasn't planned; he'd had no intentions on going back. After finishing two years of active duty, and nearly three into his six years of mandatory inactive reserve service, he never actually expected to be recalled to duty.

And never for a year and a half.

Leaving proved much harder after realizing his feelings for Beckett had evolved from "you've got some feelings" to "you've got it _bad_ " in their three years as partners. And he likes to think, a little selfishly maybe, that there might be some mutual feelings on her end, likes to think there was something before he left, something simple and sweet and bubbling beneath the surface that he's dying to explore some more of.

Her letters, though, they've helped. Hearing from her in any capacity has soothed the ache, made his time go by just a bit quicker, a little easier.

He gets the idea that night when he's lying on his bed, re-reading the letter for the third time. She's signed this one _Kate_ , not Beckett, and his heart clenches a little.

He wants to surprise her. He's finally getting out of here soon, finally gets to see her, see his family, friends, and get back home. But he wants to do something special, wants to—well, yeah, surprise her.

Phone calls aren't the easiest to make here, with the hours they keep and confidentiality details and other things he just agrees to, but he manages to call her. A letter might not get to her quick enough, won't give him the time he needs to execute his surprise, as simple as he plans it to be.

"I should be able to come home in about a month. October 17th, I think," he tells her her when she answers. This is, of course, to plant the seed. To give her a time frame, an exact date.

A date that's a full two weeks later than his actual arrival.

"Not too much longer then," she hums. "That's... good. It'll be good to see you, Castle."

The smile threatens to split his face. "Aw, is that some positivity about my homecoming I detect? Admit it, Beckett, you miss me."

She laughs, the sound music to his ears. "I see the ego hasn't gotten any smaller." There's a pause, and he hears her intake of breath. "Just get home safe, okay?"

* * *

On October 3rd, he arrives home.

His flight is delayed three hours due to aircraft maintenance, causes him to touch down around 8pm instead of 6. He's exhausted and tired, but thrilled to be back in New York.

He's greeted outside the arrivals terminal by his mother and daughter, the latter holding a little sign that says "Welcome home, Dad!" in big, fancy lettering.

It's forgotten seconds later when he's practically toppled over by the force of Alexis's hug.

"Missed you too, Pumpkin," he laughs into her hair. When he pulls away, sees the tears in her eyes, he just tugs her back into his chest. "Come here."

His eyes meet his mother's over her shoulder, and he gives her a smile. Alexis backs away, swiping at her eyes but a smile on her face, and wheels the rest of his bags towards her before he can protest.

"It's good to see you, kiddo," his mother tells him as he grabs her next.

He tightens his hold for a second. "You have no idea."

It's Martha who pulls back first, an open palm patting at his shoulder. "Well, let's waste no time getting you home, Richard," she says. "You look absolutely tired out. Sleep will do you good."

"You can say that again," he chuckles, his arm wrapped around Alexis after successfully peeling one suitcase from her grasp.

"And I'm sure you're dying to see Katherine. She must be thrilled to hear you're back."

His chest bubbles over with both nerves and excitement at the mention of her name.

"She doesn't know."

Both women stop to look at him. "She doesn't know?" his mother asks.

"You didn't tell her you were coming home?"

He shakes his head. "No, I told her," he assures them. "But I told her I was coming home the 17th. I'm going to surprise her at the precinct." Pausing, he looks from one redhead to the other. "You didn't... tell her I was landing today, did you?"

"No, we haven't really talked to Detective Beckett recently." There's something in her face, something that has him thinking there's more to the story than that, but before he has a chance to probe deeper Alexis gives him a wary look, a brow raised. "But dad, is that such a good idea?"

Is it a good idea? He thinks it's a _wonderful_ idea, but he's biased.

"Of course," he decides. "We've been talking, and besides, what's a little surprise between friends?"

His daughter lets out a breath. "If you're sure," she hedges. "I just don't want to have to come down to the precinct because you've been arrested or something, okay?"

He can't help but laugh. "I'm sure," he says, pressing a kiss to her head. "No getting arrested. Now, let's get home. I could kill for some leftovers and a long nap."

"That's called a good night's sleep."

"Tomato, tomahto." He waves the hand wrapped around her shoulder. "Onwards, offspring."

It's good to be home.

* * *

On October 4th, he sees the boys and Lanie.

He wakes up at 3pm, the jetlag worse coming back than he remembers it being on the way there. He almost considers cancelling, telling them he'll meet them tomorrow so he can go back to sleep, but ultimately relents after accepting that he has to get back to a normal schedule as soon as possible.

"It's good to see you, man," Ryan says after they pull away from their hug.

Esposito's next, claps him on the back. "Yeah, welcome back, bro. Missed a couple freaky ones. The last one was this ghost hunter—"

"You can fill him in later, but first I get a hug," Lanie quips, pushing past Esposito to wrap her arms around Castle. "Welcome back, writer boy. Glad to see you home safe."

"Missed you guys, too," he tells them, then ushers them into the living room.

With drinks passed around and the pizza having arrived, he takes a seat beside Lanie on the couch.

"So, is Beckett suspicious that the three of you are all gone at the same time?" he asks.

Espo shakes his head. "Nah, Ryan and I told her we had to run down a lead. Should give us about a half hour before she starts getting suspicious."

"And she's not expecting to see me today anyway," Lanie adds, nursing a glass of wine. "Secret's safe with us."

"Yeah, now why is it again that we're here and Beckett isn't?" Ryan questions.

Castle leans forward. "Because I want to surprise her at the precinct. I told her I was getting back on the 17th."

"She's gonna kick your ass," Lanie laughs, to which the boys nod their agreement. "Girl hates surprises."

"I know," he nods back. Because he does, he knows she hates surprises. "But she'll love this one." At their raised brows, Espo's _seriously?_ face, he amends. "Okay, at least _like_."

Or so he hopes, truly hopes.

Lanie elbows Esposito's side, turns to Castle. "When are you planning for?"

"Thursday, I think." That gives him three days to relax, get in some extra sleep so he's not a zombie when he sees her.

"And what do we have to do?" Espo asks, taking another bite of pizza. "'Cause if you plan on having a huge party, bro, that's gonna cost you some more beer."

Shaking his head, he grabs his own slice. "No. No party, nothing big. Maybe a confetti popper if I'm feeling spontaneous. All I need is for you guys to let me know when she's not at her desk. I can't walk in the bullpen when she's in full view of the elevator."

"That wouldn't be much of a surprise," Ryan agrees.

He nods. "Exactly. So, you guys think you can do that?"

Espo and Ryan turn to each other, give each other exaggerated looks of consideration before twisting back around to him. "Yeah, we can do that," Espo says then, fist bumping with Ryan.

"Thanks, guys," he grins. "I can't wait. How's she been? I mean, we've talked, but her letters didn't really reveal much about _her_ , you know."

Not that that surprises him. This is Beckett; she's not exactly what he'd consider a sharer, and so her lack of sharing didn't concern him, not until right now, taking in the looks of indecision on their friends faces.

"What? Is something wrong with Beckett?" he asks, gaze traveling from one to the other. "Is she okay?"

"She's okay," Ryan offers, but it's not as convincing as he'd like.

Espo and Lanie share another look.

"Guys."

"She's had a tough time," Espo says finally. "But she's doing okay."

This is giving him nothing.

"Lanie—"

But she shakes her head. "This isn't for us to tell you," she tells him. "But maybe skip on the poppers."

"Skip on the—what do they have to do with anything? Guys, come on..."

"You can talk to her yourself," Lanie breathes. "Just no poppers, and be patient with her."

"Okay, no poppers," he promises, still curious and more than a little concerned.

"Oh, and Castle?" He meets her eyes. "Don't let her convince you differently. Girl missed you, too."

Castle smiles then, the secondhand confirmation still nice to hear.

"Three days," he says. "Here's hoping she doesn't shoot me," he adds on a laugh, holds up his glass and cheers' with the three of them.

"I'll put in a bet—"

"No you will not, Javier."

"Chica—"

"No."

Three days. In three days, he'll see Kate Beckett for the first time in over a year.

* * *

On October 5th, he decides to limit himself to the loft until after Thursday.

It proves more difficult keeping his homecoming from Beckett than he'd anticipated. Going outside is a no-go, lest he risk a paparazzi getting wind that he's returned or a fan seeing him, posting it somewhere on social media.

Only two more days.

* * *

On October 6th, he googles her.

He doesn't mean to, really, it just happens after a day of sitting around, Esposito and Lanie's words too much for his curiosity.

 _She's had a tough time_.

 _She's doing okay_.

 _This isn't for us to tell you_.

He figures, logically, that if he googles her and nothing comes up, then it was nothing _too_ serious. Nothing serious enough to warrant news coverage or a write up online, in a newspaper. What he doesn't figure into his logic is the very real possibility of it being something serious, not until he's staring at his computer screen with his breath caught his in throat and his knuckles whiting out against his keyboard.

" _NYPD Detective Shot at Funeral_ ," reads the headline, Beckett's photo beneath, her smiling face looking back at him.

It's from May. Five months ago. Beckett was shot five months ago and he had no idea. _Shot_.

There are no other updates on her condition between the first paper, noting her in critical condition, and one three months later that documents her return to the NYPD.

It takes all of his willpower to stay where he is, to resist driving to the precinct right now—because he knows she's still there, always working past her shift's end—and see for himself that she's fine. He knows she is, knows Lanie and the boys wouldn't lie about her health as it is currently, but knowing what he does now and not being able to make sure, it's hard.

Tomorrow.

He'll see her tomorrow morning, he'll hug her a little looser but for a little longer, and it'll be okay.

* * *

On October 7th, operation surprise Beckett is put into motion.

He dresses carefully, feels as if he's going on a first date and chastises himself until he just picks something that looks good. Beckett won't care. (But he still picks out a light blue shirt, remembers the way her eyes roamed his body the last time he wore it.)

Esposito sends him a text around 6:45, tells him they got a body and he'll send another message when they're back at the precinct.

That text comes in just before 8:00, from Ryan, along with instructions to head over to the precinct but to hide downstairs. He'll get another one when Beckett's vacated her desk and the boys will do their best to keep her away from it until he gets upstairs.

So, he does what he's told. He makes his way to the precinct, stopping first to get Beckett a coffee in a routine that almost makes him feel as though he never left, nervous energy making him jittery.

He hangs downstairs with the desk sergeant until he hears from Esposito and Ryan. The officers that pass him pat him on the back, nudge at his shoulders in what he takes to be gestures of welcoming him back. He tells each of them in passing that they never saw him, that he's surprising Beckett, and they all nod or shrug or look completely uninterested as a whole, so he figures he's safe.

When his phone chimes he nearly jumps out of his skin, just barely avoiding a coffee mishap.

It's from Espo.

 _Beckett's in the break room_. _Get up here_.

He waves to the desk sergeant and bounces into the elevator, pressing the homicide floor button with an eerie sense of deja vu. The elevator doors open and he steps out slowly, peeks his head around just to make sure she's still nowhere to be seen.

Ryan sees him first, nods with his head towards the break room. "Go, go," he mouths.

When he gets closer, it looks like she's still fiddling with the coffee machine, but it's obvious he doesn't have much time. No time to pause, collect himself, maybe take a breath and a few minutes. He just has to do it, walk in there and surprise her.

Simple.

Simple, if he could make his legs work.

"Castle," Esposito hisses from behind him. " _Go_."

He does. He moves closer, can feel Esposito and Ryan closing in and hovering near the window to get a better view. Once his feet breach the doorway, he takes a breath and steps in slowly, keeping his footsteps light so she doesn't turn around.

She's just about to grab at the mug of freshly brewed coffee when he steps up behind her.

"Thought you could use this."

She whips around at the sound of his voice, her eyes wide, mouth open in shock as he stands before her, hand outstretched with her coffee.

" _Castle?_ " He grins as the shock on her face slowly gives way to the curl of her lips. He expects the smile, is overjoyed to see it, but what he doesn't expect is for her to close the gap between them, to practically throw her arms around him and hold on. All he can do is try not to drop her coffee as he returns the hug, careful not to squeeze too tight.

"What are you doing here?" she breathes into his neck. "You aren't supposed to be back until the 17th."

When they pull apart, he's still smiling. " _Might've_ lied a little to surprise you."

She twists her lips to the side, nods slowly with a soft nudge of his shoulder, but then she's shaking her head. "I'm... definitely surprised," she says with a chuckle. "You're... here. You're back."

"I'm back," he confirms. "And I have your coffee."

Her bottom lip is pinned between her teeth. "Thank you," she murmurs, flicking her gaze up to his. "I've missed this."

"I missed you too, Beckett."

"I was talking about the coffee," she teases, a smirk playing on her lips.

It's still his Beckett, the quick-witted banter flowing back and forth as if he never left, and he couldn't be more grateful. He sees the scars behind her eyes, a new meaning given to them after what he's found out, but she's in tact. Her hair's longer, she's lost weight, but she's still Beckett, just a little rougher around the edges.

His mouth drops open, a hand braced on his chest in mock-offense. "That cuts deep, Detective. Kiss it better?"

She rolls her eyes. "I think you'll survive."

He wants to ask her about the shooting, about _her_ survival, because he might've been in the military but she's been fighting her own battle back here. But this isn't the place.

Bouncing on his heels, he trails behind her to her desk. "Whaddya say, Beckett, wanna play hooky? Accompany me for some lunch?"

She looks up at him, flashes of what looks like regret in her eyes. "I—we've got an open case," she sighs, but offers him a soft smile. "Really, Castle, I'm... glad you're back, but I can't right now."

He understands, he does, knows how she gets during an open murder investigation. She won't allow herself time until the case is solved.

"After the case?"

Her face relaxes, and he swears she looks relieved. "After the case," she nods. "I'll call you?"

"I look forward to it."

* * *

On October 8th, Beckett calls.

It's nearing 10pm when his phone goes off, her picture lighting up both his phone and his face.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Detective?"

She gives him a light chuckle. "Hey, Castle."

"Rough case?" he asks, though he's sure he knows the answer already. He still remembers what she sounds like after a tough one, whether emotionally taxing or just one that requires more work to get to the end goal.

He hasn't returned to the precinct yet, is still taking a week or so to adjust to being home again, but he's already itching to get back into the swing of things.

"Uh, yeah. You could say that."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Sitting up, he moves his laptop from its spot on his thighs and places it on his desk. "Wanna come over for some late night Chinese and not talk about it?"

"Actually... yeah," she breathes. "That sounds really nice."

He smiles, already in the kitchen and digging the menu out of the drawer.

"Ordering now. Door'll be open."

"Okay."

The food arrives in thirty minutes and Beckett ten minutes later. He assumes she called from the precinct and stopped at home first to change. When he opens the door to find her in jeans, a comfortable sweater, and flats, he knows he's right.

"Come in, come in," he says, ushering her through the entry. "Food just got here so it's still warm. Got your usual, hope that's okay. Unless that's not your usual anymore, then I can just call back—"

"Castle," she laughs, cutting him off as she moves to the island. "It's still my usual. Thank you."

Castle joins her, and they both put their food onto plates to take into the living room. He takes a little bit of everything and she sticks to a portion of her usual. (He scoops an extra forkful of lo mein noodles onto her plate when she's not looking, shoves a few pieces of sweet and sour chicken after. She pretends not to notice.)

She tucks herself into the corner of his couch, her legs pulled sideways beneath her body, her plate resting on her thighs. They sit in a comfortable silence as they both eat, but he catches her peeking at him out of the corner of her eyes.

(He can't blame her, though, because he's doing the same.)

"Castle?"

"Hmm?"

She pauses, licks her lips. "I did miss you," she admits with a shy smile. "I'm glad you made it back in one piece."

"Me too," he says, his voice caught with emotion.

They both know what he means.

That's all she says before she goes back to eating, but really, it's all he needs.

Until they're done, that is; then he puts his empty plate onto the coffee table and orients his body towards her, pushes back the nerves to just ask her.

"Beckett?" She looks at him. "Can I ask you something?"

Beckett huffs, the corners of her lips quirking. "My answer ever stop you before?"

"No," he agrees. "How are you?"

Her brows furrow. "I'm... good. I'm fine, Castle," she nods. "Why?"

"Because I know you were shot."

He watches as she freezes for a second, eyes widening, and then she sags against the back of the couch. "I—How?"

"Online," he admits. "Alexis mentioned they hadn't talked to you recently and something seemed off, but I shrugged it off. But then the boys, Lanie... they said you went through a tough time but you were doing okay, that it wasn't something they could tell me, that I'd have to ask you, and I figured—well, hey, if I google your name and nothing comes up, it couldn't be too concerning, right?"

She gives a sad smile. "Castle..."

" _Shot_ , Kate," he repeats. "You were shot in the chest, you—the newspaper said you died before you were resuscitated and you didn't... nobody thought I should know? The boys, Lanie, even my own family?"

"I made them promise not to tell you," she whispers.

"Why? Why didn't you just tell me?" His voice is quiet, no anger, only questions and a little hurt. "In any of the letters after it happened..."

"Because, Castle," she sighs, curling her legs closer to her chest. "I didn't—I couldn't tell you, not when you had enough to worry about over there. You didn't need the added burden of being concerned about me, and we both know you would be."

"Of course I would be, but you're _never_ a burden."

She reaches over, puts a hand on his knee. "I know," she promises. "I know you would've been, and that's why I didn't tell you. And part of it was selfish, too, I guess. You didn't know, so I could just write to you and feel like everything was normal, like everyone wasn't walking on eggshells around me, like I wasn't this poor little broken thing."

"Oh, _Beckett_."

"I'm okay," she says, looking at him from behind her lashes. "Really. It's been—yeah, it's been hell the past few months, but I'm here. I'm alive, I'm back to work, I'm healing." He stays silent, and she tips his chin up. "Do you believe me?"

He takes a deep breath. "I—Yeah. I believe you." Eyes roaming, he just takes her in, gaze stuck on her chest where he knows the scar must be somewhere. Hidden by her shirt, protected, the sign of both that she's still here, living, and that she almost wasn't. "You almost died."

"Castle, look at me." And suddenly she's beside him, her thighs brushing against his as she hovers. "Hey. I'm right here."

He nods, takes the hand she's offering, his breath catching when she brings them to her chest. Her heart beats against his palm.

"Don't know what I would've done if you weren't here to come back to, Beckett."

"And you don't have to find out," she tells him, eyes searching his, her lips curling at the edges. "Getting sentimental on me there, Castle?"

He laughs, rough with unshed tears. "Always."

She settles back in beside him. "Let's watch a movie? Unless you're sick of me already, you know," she teases, lightening the mood. "In which case I can just go back to my apartment."

"Not getting rid of me that easily, Beckett," he promises, reveling in her nod, the smile she gives him.

"Good. I don't want to."

* * *

On December 12th, he takes her on a date.

He picks her up at her apartment, his breath taken away at how stunning she looks in her grey dress. It's simple; long sleeves, cuts off just below the knee, but it hugs every curve. She adds a scarf, a jacket, a beanie that fits perfectly over her curls, and he can't take his eyes off of her.

He takes her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, but not overly fancy, and she lets him hold her hand across the table.

Her eyes sparkle when they're in the planetarium, lying on the floor in an exhibit he's reserved just for them. The room is dark, her face lit up only by the light of the stars above them, and when she turns to him with a wide smile and appreciation in her eyes, everything's worth it.

With nerves knotted in his stomach, he kisses her in her doorway before he says goodnight.

(He feels the press of her smile when she kisses him back.)

* * *

 _"Castle is a soldier and after 3 years of being apart he comes home. Of course Beckett doesn't know about it and he surprises her at the precinct"_

I've altered the timeline _slightly_ , putting Castle leaving after Close Encounters and returning just after Demons.


End file.
